Minute by minute, the battlefield shrank until the Demon Slayer Corps was forced back to the ruins of the Ubuyashiki estate.
Beyond the shattered estate walls, the demon horde closed in step by step, encircling the ruins. And within, the shockwaves from Yōsuke's escalating battle with Muzan forced even the Demon Slayers to split their focus between fighting and dodging.
Coupled with the demons outside and the masses of controlled humans, everyone felt their strength stretched to the breaking point.
The five Hashira made their choice: abandon the outer battlefield and throw everything into striking at Muzan alongside Yōsuke.
"Thunder Breathing, Fifth Form: Scorching Thunderclap!"
The Thunder Hashira, Sayaka Raihui, burst forth with lightning, hurling searing bolts straight at Muzan.
But the storm of lightning was shattered, blocked by Muzan's thrashing whip tendrils. In the next instant, one lanced toward Raihui's chest.
"Stone Breathing, Fourth Form: Flowing Rock, Rapid Advance!"
The strongest of the five, the Stone Hashira Shimazawa Daigo, interposed himself, spinning his Nichirin Blade in a whirling guard to deflect the strike.
The blow still blasted him off his feet, hurling his massive frame away.
"Half an hour more! Just hold on!"
After a night of slaughter, the sky was faintly lightening. If they couldn't stall Muzan until sunrise, everything they had sacrificed would be wasted.
The five Hashira looked upward at Yōsuke, still battling in midair against Muzan.
The pivot of this war was no longer Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
It was Yōsuke Ubuyashiki—the only one who, as a demon king himself, could hold back Muzan.
The five exchanged a single glance, a nod. At once, their Marks flared to life and they stepped into the Transparent World.
They would unleash their strongest forms—no matter the cost—to give Yōsuke his chance.
"Thunder Breathing, Sixth Form: Thunderclap Tempest!"
"Stone Breathing, Fifth Form: Wheel of Penitence!"
"Flame Breathing, Esoteric Ninth Form: Purgatory!"
"Water Breathing, Tenth Form: Constant Flux!"
"Wind Breathing, Ninth Form: Idaten Typhoon!"
Five blades, five storms of lethal technique howled as one toward Muzan.
Even Muzan felt a flicker of alarm. It lacked the overwhelming purity of Yoriichi's Sun Breathing, yet the concentrated fury of five Hashira was still staggering.
"Human Breathing swordsmen… to think their strength could reach such heights?!"
He was forced to cross his arms, to pull every whip-tendril before him into a bulwark.
The combined strike slammed home. Muzan's tendrils were obliterated, his arms shredded to the bone beneath the force.
Seizing the opening, Yōsuke unleashed what he had only just forged—the pinnacle of his Blood Breathing.
"Blood Breathing, Fourth Form: Asura Blood-Domain Heaven!"
Behind him rose a towering avatar wrought of his own blood—a colossal woman, lifelike and terrible, clutching a titanic scarlet blade.
Yōsuke raised his Nichirin above his head. The avatar mirrored him.
A world-rending strike fell.
Caught in its path, Muzan was cleaved cleanly in two, collapsing to the ground in a spray of gore.
The five Hashira collapsed as well, utterly spent, unable to even rise.
The Asura strike had drained Yōsuke's own demonic lifeblood. His blood-wings flickered out. Exhausted, he plummeted from the sky, dragging himself upright only with trembling effort. He dared not relax. Without Yoriichi's Sun Breathing, no blow could end Muzan.
And indeed—before their despairing eyes—the bisected body of Muzan knit itself together once more.
Those few Demon Slayers still alive watched in horror as hope guttered. The sun was not yet risen. Their strength was gone.
Muzan, enraged and humiliated, bellowed, his voice quaking the ruins:
"You wretches… again and again, you dare obstruct me!"
His gaze swept across the shattered Hashira and the handful of survivors.
"But this is the end. This—this is all the power left to the Demon Slayer Corps. The sun has not yet risen. Victory is mine! I, Muzan Kibutsuji!"
"Blood Demon Art: Dark Binding!"
Despite his own failing strength, Yōsuke forced his battered body to move, weaving his blood into chains that lashed around Muzan and bound him tight.
Step by staggering step, drenched in killing intent, Yōsuke approached.
"I told you—I will kill you here, whatever it costs. The sun will rise soon. It has been so long since I've seen a dawn… Muzan, do you remember the beauty of sunrise?"
Terror flickered across Muzan's features. Still wounded, drained of his own blood to regenerate, he could not manifest his Art again.
"Fool…! If the sun's light touches you, you'll perish as well!"
"I don't care. I've lived long enough. For both of us… it ends here."
Each step Yōsuke took struck like a hammer on Muzan's heart.
"Damn you!"
Muzan thrust forward his final shield: hundreds of controlled humans, staggering between them.
"You're the one who fights to protect humanity, aren't you? Then protect them! If you wish to reach me, you must cut them down first. Can you?!"
Yōsuke's face did not change. His voice was ice.
"I said I would kill you—no matter the cost. Whoever stands in my way… dies."
He raised his blade to strike down the human wall.
"Ubuyashiki Yōsuke! They are innocent people, under control—you cannot kill them!"
The five Hashira, broken but not yet dead, forced their ruined bodies up, clutching at Yōsuke's arm to stop the swing.
"If Muzan isn't slain here, how many more will die? A thousand? Ten thousand? Hundreds of thousands? These people are innocent, yes—but once they stepped into this battlefield, they could no longer escape fate.
To sacrifice a few hundred now, to secure a future free of demons—that is the only true choice.
Their deaths will be mine to bear. Their blood will stain my hands. I, Ubuyashiki Yōsuke, will kill them—and with my own death, I will atone to their spirits!"
He tore free of their grip, continuing toward Muzan. Drops of blood slid from his Nichirin's edge, marking each step of his resolve.
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